


Dean 24.5

by phantisma



Series: Ages [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-25
Updated: 2007-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Dean's POV.  Dean is done being everyone's puppet and target...and decides it has to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean 24.5

He was twenty four years, four months and 15 days old when he strode into County General looking like Jenny, walked into his father’s room and locked the door. With the pass of his hand the window frosted over.

His father shifted on the bed. His voice was gruff. “Sam?”

Dean grinned and shook his head, letting the glamour slip so it wouldn’t wear him out. “Not exactly.”

“Dean? What are you doing here?” John hissed. “You trying to get killed?”

Dean crossed the room and pulled his chart. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you too, Dad. How you feeling?”

“Me? Where’s Sam?”

Dean looked at his father over the chart. “He’s…upstairs, keeping MacAfferty off my back. You ready to get out of here?”

“Out of here? What?” John sat up as Dean nodded and put the chart down.

“Yeah. I’m not comfortable with you here anymore. I’m sorry I left you here this long, but…I had some adjusting to do.”

“Adjusting. To what?”

Dean stopped to look at him. Really look at him. He was pale, still hurting…his eyes were still bandaged and Dean could feel the drugs in him. “Let’s take care of that.” Dean muttered, reaching for the IV.

“It’s on an alarm, I already tried.” John said as he felt him fumble with the tubing.

Dean nodded and waved a hand at the machine, reaching into it for controls and clicking it off before he pulled the needle from his father’s arm and pressed his thumb over it.

“What did you—?”

“Tell you everything later, okay? Right now, let’s just get you to the car before we get caught. Press here.” He moved his hand and let John take over, while he pulled the glamour back over himself and went to the door. The wheelchair was where he’d left it…across the hall by the nurse’s station. He opened the door and went for it, the nurse had her back turned. He backed quickly into his father’s room.

“Okay, let’s get you into the chair. I’m going to cover you in a glamour, then I’m going to wheel you out of here.”

“A glamour?”

“Trust me, I’ll have us out of here in no time.” Dean helped him up and into the chair and draped a thin hospital blanket over his lap. “This is going to feel a little strange. Just…sit still.”

It was a different thing, and he wasn’t really sure what he was doing…but he managed, pulled an image of an old man over his father’s face. “Sit still and be quiet.”

Dean got them out the door and into the hall, moving casually. The drain on his strength was more than he expected and he had to adjust a little. His father turned his head and Dean felt the flush of fear from a nurse, who immediately picked up the phone. “She saw you.” Dean said, “Hold on.”

He picked up the pace, reaching out for Sam, letting him know they needed to go. He burst out the side door near the car and his father winced from the brightness of the sun, despite the bandages. “Sorry…” Dean muttered as he parked John next to the Impala and opened the back door. “Lay down, cover your eyes while you adjust.”

He ditched the wheelchair and leaned against the car impatiently. “Come on Sammy.”

The door opened and Dean gestured. “Now, we gotta go.”

Sam paused at the passenger door, looking in at their father. “Dean?”

He made a face and got in the car. “The glamour slipped. A nurse saw me, us. We gotta move.”

Sam pulled his door shut and buckled. “MacAfferty. She knows.”

“How?”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know…she just does. Go.”

Two orderlies emerged from the door and Sam grabbed the dashboard as Dean gunned the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “We can’t go to the apartment. They’ll come looking.” Sam said, glancing back at their father. “You sure this was the right thing?”

Dean let the glamour fade and grinned at him. “No. But it felt good. Don’t worry Sam. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Dean’s grin got deeper. “I’m getting ready to make a deal with a demon Sam.” He reached over and patted Sam’s knee. “Call Jenny. Have her meet us at the train station.”

“Train station? Are we going somewhere?”

“They are. Jenny and Daniel. Have her bring some of Dad’s things. And the bag I put together for her. Tell her to pack light.”

_I hope you know what you’re doing._

“Trust me Sam.” _Just hang in there and trust me._

 

Dean wasn’t as confident as he wanted the others to think. He didn’t have a plan as much as he was just done with this whole mess. He was tired of being a pawn in someone else’s game. He’d been played his whole life, by the demons, by Reuel, by Javal…and all of their minions and playthings.

And yes, on some level that included Sam and Jenny and Janet and even his father. But it wasn’t the humans running the show…and besides, Dean knew that Sam and Jenny and his father only ever wanted to do the right thing.

Dean didn’t even know what that was anymore.

There were things he did know. There were actions he had plans to take. First and foremost was getting Jenny and Daniel out of the immediate crossfire. Now that Jenny was no longer host to Reuel, there wasn’t much she could do to be involved in this anyway, and he’d be damned if he’d let Daniel be touched again.

He held his son while Sam and Jenny said goodbye, drawing up his shirt to expose his tender belly. Dean stuck his finger in the holy water he’d packed in the bag for Jenny and drew a sigil on Daniel’s belly, murmuring in a language older than Latin. He didn’t understand the words exactly, but knew it would protect his son. “You be good for your aunt Jenny. Daddy will come get you soon.”

He put Daniel in Jenny’s arm’s then rewet his finger, drawing a similar sigil on her forehead, whispering the incantation before sealing it with a kiss. “Remember, keep moving. Duck into churches, graveyards frequently …especially old ones. No where more than a couple of hours.”

“I know. Be careful.”

He nodded, smiled. He had no intention of careful, but there was no need to worry her more. He could feel her fear. It hammered through her whenever he touched her. He couldn’t blame her, not really. As far as he could tell, there’d never been someone like him, and she carried a lot of Reuel still, memories and learned reactions. “We’ll find you when it’s over.”

Jenny cradled Daniel to her and boarded the train.

Dean didn’t wait for the train to pull out, turning and heading back for the car. Their father had managed to get dressed in their absence and was sitting in the back seat, still pale and bruised, but looking better than he had.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?” John asked as Dean opened the door.

Dean nodded. “Just as soon as we’re…under cover.”

“What does that mean?”

“We need to get under the radar. Need a place to go to ground for a few days.”

“What for?” Sam asked, getting in beside Dean.

“Get you up to speed, get both of you off the drugs in your systems…Give MacAfferty some time to stew. Azre isn’t going to be pleased with her. She’s lost all three of us.”

“All of that in a couple of days?” John asked, leaning forward.

Dean couldn’t quite crack a grin as he got them moving. “With my help.” He didn’t look in the review mirror, didn't have to look to know the expression on his father’s face, the thoughts racing through his head. Dean had already thought them. “I’ll explain everything Dad. Just…give me time.”

 

 

Dean found them a motel near the edge of town, a small place, with cottage style rooms. He sent Sam to get food, settled their father into one of the beds. “You’re in pain.” Dean said. It wasn’t a question. He could feel it. “Of course your in pain. You crawled out of hell.” He sighed. “I’d give you something, but we have to get the rest of the crap out of your system first.” He sat beside him, reached out to check for a fever. “It won’t be pleasant, but it will be over quickly. Sam…It’ll be worse for him.”

John grabbed his hand and held it and Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He sighed. “I’ll hit the stuff Sam already knows.” He sighed again, rubbing his thumb over the back of his father’s hand. “I’m…different. I’ve changed.”

This was harder than he thought. His father was a hunter. Hunters killed things like him. “Maybe that isn’t as true as I’d like it to be. I’ve finally figured out what I am.”

“Dean, you’re my son. That’s what I know.”

Dean smiled and nodded, forgetting John couldn’t see it. “Maybe, Dad. But I’m not what you think. I need to tell you about a bastard named Javal and what he did to me and Sammy.”

Dean let go of his father’s hands and stood up to pace. He covered the basics, Javal’s origins, what he was planning…how he’d done it. “He picked you and he picked Mom, and I don’t know why. But he wasn’t counting on Sam. He was just there, biding his time.”

“The thing that killed your mother was after it?” John’s arms were crossed and a slow, hot anger was bubbling inside him.

“Yes. He killed Mom to force Javal out. Anyway, had I never been under the influence of the drugs, if Javal had raised me, I would have been a very different person…thing…like I am now.”

“Dean…you’re not a thing. You’re—“

“Dad. I’m a fucking encyclopedia of supernatural phenomena. Anything a demon or angel is capable of, so am I.”

“That’s ridiculous Dean.”

_I’ll show you._ Dean crossed the room and dropped onto the bed, reaching for John’s hand again. “Relax,” he murmured. “This isn’t going to hurt.” He took a deep breath and reached out for one of the burns that was causing the worst of his pain. It took a few minutes, but eventually he could feel the pain ease, feel a healthy skin start to grow. He sat back, let go, and exhaled slowly.

It was too much. It had been a long day already, with the glamours and the sigils and the work he’d done before Sam had gotten out of bed.

“Dean?” John reached for him and Dean sighed before putting his hand in his fathers.

“I’m sorry it can’t be more right now. I’m still…figuring stuff out.”

There was a knock at the door and Dean went to let Sam in with bags of take out. They ate in relative silence, and Dean did his best not to listen to their thoughts, to the fear and confusion from Sam and the anger and pain from his father. He yawned and set aside the remains of his food. “So…my plan is to help Dad heal. Help you both past the drugs and kick start Sam’s gifts. I don’t think we can get you up to full speed in time, but I need you to be able to keep up with me when it all comes down.”

“You still haven’t told me what this deal is.” Sam said quietly.

“I know. I’m still working out the details. I’m going to make us safe, Sam.”

“I think we all know that dealing with demons isn’t a wise plan.” John said.

“That was before. Dealing with demons when they hold all the cards is never good. But they don’t. Not anymore.” Dean licked his lips and decided to lay it all out there. Even if they thought he was crazy. “I can kill them. Not like…not like the two before…that’s why Azre wants me. If he can possess me, he can use me to kill for him.”

“You don’t mean just demons.” Sam said suddenly. Dean could see his thoughts, unconsciously following his own. He nodded.

“Sam?”

“Think about it, Dad. Angels and demons aren’t all that different.”

“Azre sees you as a means to strike back?”

“At the very hand of God. Assuming there is such a thing.” Dean sighed explosively. “I need some sleep. I’ve done a lot these last few days. Sam, secure the room. Keep an eye on Dad.” He kicked off his boots and crawled onto the empty bed. “When I wake up I’ll work on your eyes, okay Dad?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just closed his eyes and closed down his mind and let the exhaustion drag him under.

 

 

“Okay, let’s get a look at the damage.” Dean said softly, laying each hand on the side of John’s face. “Relax. You might feel something. I’m just going to look.”

He took a deep breath and felt his way inside his father’s body. There was an immediate swirl of pain and injury and he paused a moment to let it settle enough that he could distinguish them from one another. There was only a sense of discomfort from his eyes, and Dean felt around them, looking for anything that would indicate a reason they’d kept the bandages on. There was nothing.

“Shit.” He pulled back out fast, almost too fast. He held a hand to his head until the dizziness passed. “There’s nothing wrong with your eyes. Sam, hand me the scissors.” Dean pressed his anger back and leaned forward to cut the bandages. “Okay, keep them closed while I peel this off. We’ll go slow.”

The skin around John’s eyes was red, but he still could sense nothing seriously wrong. “Sam, turn the lights down.” When Sam had turn the lights off, Dean exhaled. “Okay. Open.”

He kept a hand on his father’s knee, monitoring for distress as he opened them and blinked a few times, then he looked up at Dean. That was when Dean saw why his eyes had been kept covered. “Wow.”

“Dean? What the…” John looked at Sam, then around the room.

“Yeah. It’s gotta be the time spent in hell, Dad. They knew you could see them.”

“See them?” Sam asked, moving closer. “See who?”

_Demons_. Dean looked up at Sam. He couldn’t guess what his father saw when he looked at him.

“This is very strange. Everything looks different.”

“Welcome to my world, Dad.” Dean sighed and got up off the bed. “Okay, your turn Sam.”

“My turn? For what?”

Dean licked his lips. “How long since you took your meds?”

“Two days. What are you planning to do?”

Dean smiled. “Give you a choice. Javal didn’t give me one Sam. But I won’t do this if you don’t want it.”

“You’re going to make me like you.”

“I can’t. Not completely. Not yet.” Dean stroked a tender finger over Sam’s cheek. “But only if you want it. I know it scares you. Hell, it scares me…and for all I know, I’m still locked in psych ward pumped full of drugs…but I can’t keep living like this, and I won’t live on the run for the rest of my life.”

Sam was uncomfortable, really uncomfortable. _Not ready for this…already a freak…maybe Javal is right, maybe we’ll destroy everything…_ Dean nodded.

“Let me make the withdrawal easier at least.”

Sam looked in his eyes and agreed.

“Bathroom.”

It wouldn’t be anywhere near what Dean had gone through. Just a few months on a relatively mild prescription. “Take your shirt off.” Dean said as they shut the door behind them. “Its not going to be pretty.”

“I know.” Sam’s voice was small. He was afraid…and not just of the withdrawal.

Dean stopped, pulled him close, wrapped himself around his brother. “We don’t have to…I can…I can leave you here with Dad. You can stay and be safe and never have to think about it again.”

Sam shook his head. “No, Dean.”

“Sam…I could…make it so you don’t know…so you don’t remember…make it so you can have that…so you never have to be anything other than Sam.”

Sam sniffled, his tears wetting Dean’s shoulder. “No…I won’t leave you alone Dean. I’m never leaving you. Never again.” He lifted his face and kissed Dean, soft, and Dean could taste ache and need and fear that he’d become some monster…fear that they’d never be free.

“Close your eyes Sammy.” Dean whispered. “I’m going to be inside your head…in your body. I’m going to try to bring it all up and out. All at once. So it’s over. Trust me?”

“I trust you Dean.”

Dean kissed over his eyes and reached into him, drawing the mess of drugs and chemical reactions to him. He turned Sam toward the toilet, pressed him to his knees. “I’ve got you Sam. I’ve got you.” Like a virtual finger down his throat, Dean triggered his gag reflex and held on to him as he retched, rocking forward and aiming into the toilet.

Wave after wave came out, followed by a few minutes of dry heaves, and Sam was shaking when it was over. Dean held him until Sam nodded, then got up and got him water from the tap. “Here. Rinse your mouth.”

When he’d spit it into the toilet and swallowed some of the water, Dean helped him up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

 

Sam’s snores echoed softly in the small room. Dean sat at the small table watching him sleep. His father sat watching him. “So. What deal?”

Dean blinked, pulling himself out of thoughts of giving Sam a life away from all of this. “What?”

“You said you were going to deal with it.”

“Oh. That.” Dean nodded and dragged his chair over by his father’s bed. “Okay, the truth is…I don’t know exactly. I want us out of the middle though. I think I’m ready. To end it.”

John crossed his arms, grimacing a little. Dean reached out for him, but he pulled away. “You can’t keep wearing yourself out.”

“I have to do what I can while I can.” Dean said.

“You’re going to give up the powers.” John said warily, staring at him.

“I never wanted them.” Dean glanced aside at Sam and smiled. “Sam’s better suited to them than I am anyway. Better temperament for it, stronger personality.”

“Dean—“

He sat back and shook his head, dismissing his father’s unspoken platitude. “I know myself, Dad. Ten years of therapy, remember?” He inhaled deeply. “Actually, I don’t think that would be enough. If it were just one side or the other…maybe. But it isn’t.”

“So Reuel is…”

“Last I spoke with him, he basically told me his side was waiting to kill me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Abomination. Hell Dad, at this point I’m not sure I’m any different than a werewolf or a vampire or any of the other half-breeds. Except I’m not a half breed, I’m…not human, not demon, not angel…if I’m to believe Reuel.”

“You aren’t evil.” John said.

Dean shrugged. “I guess that’s a matter of opinion. I’m not pure enough for Reuel and his crew.” He leaned forward, putting a hand on John’s arm. “Get some rest. I’ll figure it out.”

 

 

“Have you slept at all?” Sam’s voice was a little shaky, his eyes bleary as he joined Dean in the pre-dawn outside their room. Dean held out the cup of coffee he’d just come back with from the all night diner down the street.

“Some. How you feeling?” They both knew it was a nicety. Dean knew maybe better than Sam did how Sam was feeling.

“Better. A little weird.”

Dean nodded. “That will pass. Once everything…adjusts. Sleep and meditation.” Except they didn’t really have time for that. Dean felt Sam move behind him, felt his entire being close and it was nearly too much. He wanted to lean into it, hide in it…lose himself in the sense of _Sam_.

“That part of the plan?” Sam asked almost inaudibly, his free hand sliding into Dean’s hair.

“Maybe when this is done.” Dean whispered back.

Three days. Sam was as strong as Dean could make him on his own. His father was…walking on his own. The stage was set. “You ready to send out invitations to the party?” Dean asked, physically leaning back against Sam.

“If you’re still determined to have one.” Sam responded.

“Drink your coffee. We’ll do it at sunrise.”

Sunrise.

John joined them and together the three of them stepped into the nearly empty parking lot. Dean stood between them. Three Winchesters, three men with a cause. Each with a name to invite to the party, and an incantation to carry that invitation to their guest.

John began, intoning the Latin Dean had taught him flawlessly, his deep voice rumbling over the pavement until the wind picked it up and tossed it out into the universe. Sam was next, his voice not quite as strong, but his pronunciation perfect. Dean was last, his voice rising in a snarl as he threw the words out.

Lightening broke the sky and thunder shook the earth. “Message delivered.” Dean muttered. He turned them back to the room. “Twelve hours. Sleep, eat. Whatever you need to do.”

“What about you?” Sam asked.

“I have to go see someone. I’ll be back.”

 

 

Dean stood in front of the church and looked up at it. He’d come here with Kaitlyn the first time. The last time he’d been here, he’d been marshalling forces for a war. He wasn’t even sure he’d be welcome.

He moved slowly over the threshold that marked sacred ground. It felt different to him now…the subtleties were almost like a taste in his mouth. He pulled open the door and headed for the sanctuary, pausing just inside to savor the stillness.

There was a grey head bowed at the altar rail. Dean waited, figuring he was okay since he hadn’t been struck by lightening yet. The old head lifted, turned his way. “Didn’t expect I’d see you again, Son.”

“Father Andrews.” He stopped beside him as the priest pushed himself to his feet. He’d aged considerably in the time since Dean had last seen him. “Is it okay that I’ve come?”

The priest smiled and nodded. “Sit. Of course it’s okay, Dean. All are welcome here.”

Dean settled onto the front pew after Father Andrew had. “I worried, with everything that’s happened…”

“You mean Reuel, and everything that went down that day?”

Dean nodded. “I thought I knew what was going on. I was wrong.”

“You weren’t alone.” The surprise must have shown on his face because the priest chuckled. “Reuel filled me in a little.”

“He was angry.”

“No. He was…disappointed, afraid even. He wasn’t angry with you or Jenny. Me, on the other hand? I pissed him off.”

“You?”

“Told him he was wrong playing you and your brother the way he had. He honestly didn’t know when I first met you. I promise you that. But he figured it out, and kept playing you, hoping to catch Javal.”

“Angels and demons aren’t all that different.” Dean muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just something Sam said.”

“I know you don’t believe in God exactly, Dean. And maybe my own understanding of the spiritual world has changed a lot lately. But I know that you have a good heart.”

“I hope so.”

“Have you figured out how this is going to end?”

“You make it sound like it’s up to me.”

The priest nodded, patting his hand. “I think it just might be Dean. You’re in a tight spot. You’re caught in the middle of a triangle of power. They’ll pull you and pull you until you break. Unless you upset that balance.”

“How do I do that, without killing anyone?”

“You have to find your own balance first. You are unique, Dean. Find that balance of power within yourself.”

“I’m ending this today. One way or the other.”

Father Andrews nodded. “I figured that’s why you came.”

“I may have to kill them. Reuel too.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Thank you.” Dean stood and after a brief hesitation, Father Andrews did too. “Indulge an old man?”

Dean cocked his head quizzically. “I guess?”

“Kneel for me? Let me offer a benediction.”

Dean licked his lips, but figured it wouldn’t hurt and nodded, dropping easily to one knee and bowing his head. The priest made the sign of the cross and murmured in Latin over his head and Dean could _feel_ the words…absolution and blessing, marking his skin with invisible seals. “Amen.”

Dean inhaled deeply and repeated, “Amen.”

As he stood, Father Andrews moved in to embrace him. “Goodbye Dean. I don’t suspect I’ll be hear the next time you need an ear, or a prayer. But I’m sure one of my fellows will be.”

As Dean hugged the frail body, he could sense the disease eating through him…disease once held at bay by his partnership with Reuel. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. Go on now. You have work to do.”

 

 

Balance. Easy to say. Not so easy to find.

It was kind of surreal, really. They stood in the empty parking lot waiting. Reuel was the first to show, a silvery shimmer that lighted opposite John. He crossed his arms and folded his wings and waited.

Azre came next, all seven feet of him, black skinned, naked and bringing a peace offering. Dean hadn’t expected…but Azre laid the body at his feet and Dean couldn’t deny a sense of satisfaction.

“I realize she caused you a great deal of heartache Dean. I thought I might appease your anger by removing her from existence.”

Dean smiled, but it was fierce and Azre stepped back. “You only came and claimed what she owed you. Don’t think you can buy me with blood.”

Sam’s hand slipped into his. Dean nodded. Balance.

“I don’t know what you hope to accomplish here, Dean. No matter the outcome, you will never be alone. You will always be an abomination.” Reuel said.

“Abomination. I like the sound of that.” With a pop, Javal appeared between Reuel and Azre. Unlike Azre and Reuel, he appeared in human form, more or less. Both of them hissed and stepped away from Javal. “Thanks for the invite, I was beginning to think you hated me.”

Dean ignored him and took a deep breath. “Now that we’re all here. I’ve made a few decisions.”

“I thought we were here to deal.” Azre said. “Games of chance between the three of us to see who gets to keep you…dice?”

Dean flicked his gaze at the demon and cocked his head to the side. Instantly an oozing wound appeared on the thing’s stomach. “Actually, I called all of you here to tell you that I have decided that the game is over.” His father’s hand slipped into his free one and squeezed.

He felt stronger than he ever had. It was exhilarating. “You each have a choice to make.”

“You going to kill us Dean?” Azre asked, stepping forward.

“If you keep interrupting me I might.” Dean inhaled again. No. Not kill.

_Need you Sam_.

_Right here_.

Balance. He tugged a little on his father’s hand to warn him. _Need you too. Just squeeze if you understand._.

His father’s hand tightened around his.

“I think that it’s time for justice. Time for you all to pay for your…sins.” Dean grinned on the last word. He reached into his brother and his father, gathering strength, energy…balance…Let go of their hands and stepped forward, into the triangle formed by the three otherworldly creatures.

He gave no warning, just opened himself up, his hands striking out and grabbing both Reuel and Azre by the throat and ripping into them, he pulled at the strings of their beings, yanked the ones that made them immortal…the ones that made them powerful…and he tossed them into the empty space of his own triangle, the one formed when he’d stepped away from Sam and John. Sam worked at keeping it contained until they could deal with it.

When Dean finally dropped them, they fell to the pavement, one white, one black…both mortal and essentially human…though not completely.

“Dude! That was the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen!” Javal exclaimed, clapping his hands with glee.

Dean turned his attention to Javal. “Now…you’re not going to hurt me, are you Dean? I made you.”

“Hurt you?” Dean shook his head. “No Javal. I’m not going to hurt you. I am this way because of you. Every terrible, awful thing that’s ever happened to me has happened because of you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Dean took one step closer, his eyes lifting to those of the not-demon/not-angel. “I’m just going to kill you now and be done with it.”

Dean half closed his eyes and drew more from Sam and John, then threw it at Javal. An inhuman scream ate through the wind and the man-like body exploded, as the heavens opened and rain fell in big droplets.

He turned back to help Sam with the bundle of stuff he’d stolen from Azre and Reuel. In unison the three of them walked inward, closing their triangle and smothering the glowing bits of angel and demon…until the whole mess collapsed on itself and Dean fell into his fathers arms.

John hefted Dean and carried him back to their room. “That should make any of the others think twice.”

“Shh.” John said, settling him onto the bed. “You need to sleep.”

“Need to find Jenny…need to…go…”

John kissed his forehead. “Tomorrow Dean.”

Tomorrow. Sam crawled into the bed behind him. Balance.

MacAfferty was dead. Javal was gone. Azre and Reuel wouldn’t be bothering them anymore. He could let go…put it all away. Let it be over. He rolled over, pulling Sam tight against him.

He was twenty four years, four months and 18 days old the day it was finally over. They’d come full circle, the three of them back together.

He drifted toward sleep. Toward dreams. Toward the quiet, disturbing thought that the whole thing was a delusion. A dream conjured up in his sick mind. A nightmare that replayed every session with MacAfferty.

Then, Sam’s mind wrapped around his, filled it with memories of Kaitlyn and Daniel, of Jenny and their father…of them…and Dean held to that. _One day at a time, Dean._.

He could do that.

Twenty four years, four months and 19 days.


End file.
